than once. "Really, I must be more careful another time!"
And then he suddenly turned his monocle on to the baronet and enquired:
"But how do you know you are suspected?"
"How do I know! My God, all fingers are pointing at me! Even in my club in London I feel I am a marked man. I have discussed my awful position with all my friends, and by this time they tell me that everybody else knows too!"
"That is—er—not unnatural," said Carrington drily. "But how did you first learn?"
The young man's voice fell almost to a whisper and he glanced apprehensively over his shoulder as he spoke.
"I knew I should be suspected the moment I heard of the crime! The very night before—perhaps at the actual moment when the deed was being done—I did a foolish thing!"
"You don't say so!" exclaimed his new friend with every appearance of surprise.
"Yes, you may not believe me, but I acted like a damned silly ass. Mind you, I am not as a rule a silly ass," the baronet added with dignity, "but that night I actually confided in a woman!"
"What woman?"'
"My relative Miss Cicely Farmond—a charming girl, I may mention; there was every excuse for me, still it was a rotten thing to do, I quite admit. I told her that I was hard up and feeling desperate, and I even said I was going to sit up late! And on top of that Sir Reginald was mur-
